


What Little Sisters Are For

by aesarctic, em_gray



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Gen, It's another scene rewrite but in Feli's POV, Platonic Relationships, Sibling Love, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 09:54:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesarctic/pseuds/aesarctic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray
Summary: The scene where Monty's ear gets shot off, but in Felicity's point of view.





	What Little Sisters Are For

“The tunnel!” I yell, barely able to make myself heard over the room collapsing. I run to the door and attempt to open it. My hands are trembling and still slippery with blood, but I manage to heave it open and head into the corridor, Percy and Monty close behind me. Percy makes a swift move of yanking Monty out of the way of a crumbling pillar.  
  
In the doorway, Helena is calling to Bourbon. “Come on!” I can see he isn’t paying attention--he is too focused on the heart. I watch as flames begin to crawl up his sleeves. It’s a horrifying sight, even happening to a man who had every intention to kill us.  
  
“Come on!” Helena tries again to get Bourbon out. “It’s gone, come _now_!”  
  
I realize in that instant he will not come out. He will die right then and there with the heart, becoming the last in a long line of individuals who will rest here for all eternity. On instinct I grab Helena despite her protests, and drag her away from the doorway of the tomb.  
  
Together the four of us continue running down the passageway. The walls are collapsing by the second and the ground is rumbling. My eyes are burning with dust and my lungs feel like they are about to burst--it is terrifying, but I can’t concentrate on it. We have one goal: get out.  
  
At some point, Helena frees her arm from my grasp and pulls ahead. I hadn’t even noticed I was still holding her. I hear her footsteps climb up the staircase, echoing against the trembling walls that look like they are about to give up and crash down, burying us, but I can’t think about that. Spiraling up the staircase, I quickly check if Monty and Percy are still following and head toward the chapel.  
  
Helena is long ahead of us, shoving our gondola into the water in preparation to take it. It makes me slightly annoyed, but there is another boat next to it, so I let her go. The three of us make it to our boat as I hear the chapel begin to break behind us.  
  
We lose our footing from the wind and floodwater. Percy first helps me into the boat, then Monty. I almost have to catch him as he topples in. Then Percy shoves us off the dock and hops into the boat as well.  
  
The island is still collapsing, and a shower of stones hits us, tearing my dress and scraping my skin. I focus on getting the boat moving before checking up on Monty and Percy.  
  
“Monty.” Percy has said his name twice now, and I start to realize that something may be wrong. My brother is slumping, hand pressed to the side of his face. “Monty.” Still nothing. I can’t look yet, as apparently I’m the only one on this boat who has the sense to row. Then a fourth time: “Monty.” From what I can hear, this seems to get a response from him. “Monty, talk to me. Say something.”  
  
“I think I’ve been shot.”  
  
That sounded an awful lot like what he said after he’d attempted to punch one of the highwaymen, and what he’d said when he got his foot stuck under the Robles’ front door. “You have not been shot,” I respond, almost as a reflex. I’d heard a gunshot go off in the tomb, but with everyone still on their feet and the more urgent matter of the walls collapsing, I assumed it had missed. Yet here my brother’s voice is thin with dread, sounding more scared than I’d ever heard him, so I pull the oars in and look at him. He pulls his hand away from the right side of his head. I almost gasp. It’s red. Everything is blood. I reach out and press his hand back to his head. “Fine, you’ve been shot.”  
  
How could I have not noticed? It makes sense. The inside of the ear is what helps keep a person balanced. No wonder he couldn’t stand properly. No wonder Percy had to help him along.  
  
“It isn’t bad,” I still try. I feel lightheaded, but I don’t understand why. I’m anything but squeamish about blood, and though I have to admit I have very little experience in treating actual injuries, I’ve been studying the subject for years. I know what to do as soon as we get to safety. But at the sight of my brother’s eyes losing focus as his blood stains his hair and skin, none of this knowledge puts me at ease. When his hand starts slipping, I cry out, “Keep your hand on it! Tight, Monty. Press it tight.”  
  
Percy has to help him with this task. I can’t do anything while on this tiny boat except row it, and it makes me want to scream. Not being able to help in an area of my expertise hurt. Knowing that Monty was depending on me to fix it, and the best I could do was to make him hold his hand over his ear made it feel as if everything I had learned over the years was for nothing.  
  
I can’t dwell on it. As soon as we get to the _Eleftheria_, the better. I survey the sea, praying they’ll come into view.  
  
And they do.  
  
“There they are!” I shout in relief, watching the ship as it comes through the mist. I drop the oars in order to get us better near the prow of the ship. Two ropes are unfurled from the deck, and I take one, tying it around myself. Percy has the other, and he’s tying it around both him and my brother. It paints the ropes red.  
  
“Heave!”  
  
As the three of us are hoisted up, me a lot faster than the boys, all I can do is watch as Monty’s head bobs. He’s having trouble staying awake. “Keep a hand on his ear!” I shout in reminder. Percy takes over the job of it.  
  
I’m on the deck first, and I untie the ropes as fast as I can. I need tools, I need cloth and something sharp. And maybe a sewing needle and thread. I shout at some of the men to find me the materials.  
  
While they find what I need, I rush to Monty’s side, Scipio aiding me by yelling, “Let Miss Montague through!” In an instant I’m with my brother and his best friend. A piece of fabric has already been pressed to Monty’s ear, and I hold it tightly in place.  
  
Percy is shaking him, calling his name. “Monty, look at me. Try to stay awake. Keep your eyes open--come on, darling, look at me. Please.” He looks and sounds like an absolute wreck.  
  
My brother’s eyes are fluttering, taking in Percy. “You're hurt.” He raises an arm towards Percy, though I’m not sure what his intentions are.  
  
“No, I’m not.”  
  
All I can hear is Monty whimper, and it sends a spike through my heart. I almost call for whiskey or something with alcohol to give him. Something to ease the pain.  
  
“It’s all right,” Percy murmurs to Monty. “Breathe. You’re going to be fine. Please, breathe.”  
  
_He’s going to be fine._ My breath hitches as I watch Monty’s slow blinking halt and his eyes stay shut. Percy is still holding him, starting to tear up as he keeps whispering. “Please, Monty, come on, you’ll be okay, please be okay, please, darling, I don’t know what to do without you.” His voice falters. He’s gently stroking Monty’s hair out of his face and trying to shake him awake, but it’s no use. I’ve never seen a man look so broken before, and it does something to me.  
  
Perhaps it’s because in that moment I first start to understand how much those two mean to one another. Perhaps it’s because what feels like an eternity has passed and I still don’t have what I need to help. Or perhaps it’s because of how terribly pale and fragile my brother looks, drenched in water and blood and with Percy bent over him and begging him to wake up.  
  
He doesn’t stir, and for a terrifying moment I can’t even tell if he’s breathing. Inside of me, something flares up, and I feel much more than I’ve ever felt in my life, something even stronger than my passions to study medicine.  
  
In that terrible, terrible moment, I realize how much I care for my brother.  
  
No time to dwell on that. I look up, blinking away some tears, hoping that someone has brought me something to start the procedure. A knife is handed to me. “Not here,” I say. “Let’s get him on a bed.”  
  
Percy lifts Monty, and Scipio leads us to his own cabin. My brother is lain down, and I begin my work. The red-stained cloth is lifted and underneath it’s all still blood. Some already crusty and brown, and some still warm and fresh.  
  
“I need water--something to clean the area.” I add, “And alcohol.” Scipio leaves and returns with a bucket of sea water and a bottle of gin.  
  
I clean and disinfect Monty’s ear, working as fast as I can. I’m not concentrating on the fact that this is my brother.  
  
Blood is still oozing out, but I do the best I can to clean up the area. I can see red scars on his cheek, and I brush my hand over them before getting back to work. The best thing I can do is remove the rest of the ear and stitch it all back together. I warn Percy of this, in case he wants to leave the room, but he stays, holding Monty’s hand and watching his face.  
  
As quickly as I can, I carry out the procedure. The blood still doesn’t bother me, but I am losing my grip anyway. This is my brother, shot while trying to uncover something not for him, but for his best friend.  
  
I stare at my work. It’s done, but I can’t seem to put the needle down. My hands are trembling.  
  
“Felicity?”  
  
“He’ll be alright,” I answer, not looking up at Percy. “We’ll have to watch for infection, but--”  
  
“You’re crying,” he interrupts. My gaze snaps up to meet his. I raise the hand that isn’t holding the needle to my face and wipe tears away that I didn’t even realize existed. I stare at my hand for a moment in bewilderment, then I look back up at Percy, who’s crying as well. He finally lets go of my brother’s hand and carefully pries the needle from my grasp, laying it down, before throwing his arms around me.  
  
“He’ll be alright,” I repeat, but my voice is strangled and wobbly. “He’ll be alright.”  
  
And before I can stop myself, I’m sobbing into Percy’s shoulder.  
  
Percy and I are holding each other, and I’m not sure who’s supporting who. “You did what you could. You’re a fantastic doctor,” Percy says.  
  
“Physician,” I correct, pulling away. I want to see my brother. Percy watches me as I brush hair out of his face. “Look what you’ve done,” I scold him, though he can’t hear me. My voice is shaky. “This is what you get for stealing.”  
  
I feel Percy’s hand land on my shoulder, and I look up at him. “Why don’t you go find something to eat,” he suggests. “Or somewhere to lay down. You’ve been through a lot.”  
  
The last thing I want to do is leave Monty’s bedside. “Same to you.”  
  
He hums, gaze darting back to Monty. We both know neither of us is going anywhere anytime soon.  
  
The two of us sit in silence in the cabin, sometimes talking, sometimes not. Several times I lean over Monty’s face to check his ear, check his temperature, check everything I can think of. I’ve muttered “He’ll be alright,” more times than I can count. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught Percy looking worriedly at me just as much as he does at Monty, but that was most likely due to me being the resident doctor.  
  
I’ve watched over my brother for what must have been over eight hours, when Percy, aided by Scipio, finally persuades me to get some rest. A wave of exhaustion hits me as soon as I close the cabin door behind me.  
  
Scipio and his men find me a place to sleep below decks, and they hand me some old bread to eat. I know I should have been hungry, but it seemed like such a trivial thing compared to Monty’s state. I try to swallow a few bites, reasoning with myself that if I were to keep looking after my brother, I could hardly afford to faint, but it isn’t much use. I give up. Instead I drink some water--my throat is still dry from the dust from the island’s collapse, scrub the dried blood off my hands, and let myself fall back onto the blankets they provided. I’ve dozed off before I know it.  
  
“Felicity. Felicity, wake up.”  
  
Percy’s voice cuts through my slumber, startling me. “Percy? Is Monty okay?” I’m scrambling up before he can respond.  
  
He puts his hands out, steadying me. “He’s alright. He just woke up.”  
  
I stop, registering his words. He’s alright. “He’s awake. How long has he been awake?”  
  
“Um…” Percy hesitates. “A bit. We had a conversation, then I came to get you. I figured you would want me to wake you up.” He frames it as an apology.  
  
“Yes, thank you.” I straighten up, not wanting to show my impatience. “Shall we?”  
  
Percy nods and leads me back to Scipio’s quarters. I open the door and do my best not to rush to Monty’s bedside. I don’t need him to know just how badly I have been fretting.  
  
Monty is propped up in a sitting position, and greets me with a, “Hello, Felicity! Percy here says you’ve been quite worried about me.” There’s a smirk on his face that I wished I could wipe off. My initial relief is starting to fade.  
  
“Hello, Monty,” I reply, walking up to him. “How are you feeling?”  
  
I catch the corner of his mouth twitch into a frown before catching himself. “Fine.” He turns so I can inspect the side of his face. The stitching held up, and there isn’t any bleeding, so I dismiss it quickly. “You didn’t get hurt, did you?” He asks, fixing his gaze back on me.  
  
Shaking my head, I sat down next to him. “No, just a couple scrapes.”  
  
Monty eyes me, making sure I’m not lying. I let him, but before I can say the next thing, he pulls me against his chest in an unexpected hug.  
  
“Um,” I falter. First Percy, now my brother. Two hugs in one day is well above the tolerable number for me. I consider complaining, or at least prying myself free. But there’s something about that fact that Monty’s still here, that he’s still able to hug me, that he isn’t--well. Blame it on my panic and lack of rest, but I find myself to have grown sentimental.  
  
“Percy told me you fixed me up,” he says, a bit above my ear. “So I guess what I’m saying is… thanks.” He lets me go, hands still on my shoulders.  
  
“I didn’t realize losing an ear made you realize a part of your pride as well,” I can’t help but saying. “I might’ve imagined it, but I’m fairly certain you just thanked me.”  
He is not able to hide his amusement. “You ruined a perfectly good bonding moment, you know.”  
  
I smile, suddenly very aware of everything I would have to miss if my brother would be gone. I don’t tell him that though. “What are little sisters for?”  


**Author's Note:**

> Find us at:  
aesarctic.tumblr.com/  
em-gray.tumblr.com/


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